The Wonderful ManPerson from Oz

The ManPeople went away last week and left us to look after a house guest in their absence.  He was a tall ManPerson with facial hair and a funny accent.  He apparently hails from somewhere called ‘Oz’ where the water in the loo flows backwards and they always put shrimps on barbies.  As you can tell they are a pretty peculiar bunch and we were a little alarmed to be left in charge of him. 

Fortunately however he was well-behaved and we got to know him quite well.  Recharge was able to chatter on about sport as he was well into his footie and of course, what with Man Utd beating Arsenal 8-2, they had plenty to talk about.  He also didn’t really know how often to feed us so we were dining out all weekend on an overflowing feed tray and fresh water on the hour.  He can stay again. 

We heard a little about chickens in his country and they don’t sound too different from us – wings, legs, breasts all in the right place etc.  I’m looking forward to meeting one of our Ozzie friends in the future.  We will all hang out and swap stories about the cultural differences between our two countries of origin.  That would be really fun I think.  Recharge and I have started saving up for the cost of getting us over there and we should be ready to go around 2047.  It will be a great trip.  I think they made a film about a Wizard who lives there so Recharge and I were thinking we could track him down first.      

Hen Do Schmen Do...

We’re not talking to the ManWoman at all today as this morning she let it slip where she was over the weekend.  You won’t believe this reader but she went to... a hen do.  I know!   Where was our invite you are thinking I imagine?  So are we.

She has gone all sheepish about the whole thing and refuses to go into details about what she did on there.  I know there were loads of other hens on it though so Recharge and I were like, “Hello?” She was looking a bit tired so I imagine they talked a lot and ran about a great deal.  I bet they had some good water and some exciting feed to eat.  No party is ever really complete without grit in your food and she looks like it was some party.

I overheard her on the phone just now squealing away at what fun it all was and Recharge and I both agreed that we won’t be speaking to her for AT LEAST 48 hours.  And we’re going to have our OWN hen do in the coop tonight.  We’re getting in some fresh grass and we’re even considering inviting the rats from next door.  One is called Rambo and he is famous amongst his kind for having a really long tail AND knows all the words to a lot of the Dixie Chicks (a favourite band of ours).

So she’ll soon regret not inviting us once she hears how rockin’ it is in the coop tonight... 

sPecksavers!

The ManWoman was complaining that we have been getting a bit feisty of late.  She can be quite loud and obnoxious at times (TripleA used to wear straw in her ears to dampen down the sound and block out some of her worst stories) but she is normally kind to us and finds it funny when we do things like: poo on the ground that she has just swept, lay eggs in unexpected places, make a run for the house everytime she opens the kitchen door.  But the other day she suddenly FLIPPED OUT completely out of the blue – we had simply been pecking on her toes and clawing her ankle to say ‘Hi’ when she told us we were simply too lairy and needed to tone it down.  She’d been reading the newspaper at the time and was reading about (and considering buying) some of the new-fangled American contact lenses they’re using over there on our American cousins. 

They’re red and they supposedly “chill the bird out.”  Apparently we’ll eat less, produce more eggs and won’t fight.  Now I took offence at this.  I am RETIRED from professional egg production and we produce plenty of eggs (the ManPeople ate OMELETTE for dinner the other night – there is clearly no shortage in their household).  And I like my food so don’t WANT to eat less.  Who doesn’t like pellets with grit in?  Answer: only mad chickens.  They’re TASTY, TASTY.  And I HARDLY EVER fight with Recharge.  I’m not even that aggressive.  I’ve shouted a bit on this blog but usually I am chilled, calm.  Like a cucumber (as chickens said - in the 80’s). So I hope she doesn’t get these stupid new lenses.  I'll refuse to wear them.  I would much rather a pair of glasses or, ideally, a monocle (see below - I hate cats but this one looks so wise with the monocle in).

p.s. She also suggested putting a red bulb in our coop.  Recharge raised her eyebrows at that one.  We might have been cooped up in a battery farm but it’s not like we haven’t LIVED!  We all know what the red light normally means and I can assure you we are not those kind of chicks... 

Who Do I Think I Am?

I was watching ‘Who do you think you Are?’ with the delightful June Brown (aka Dot Cotton).  She is 84 by the way which is quite old in ManPeople years but to us chickens that is like being as Old as Time itself.  She is as old as my Great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great GrandChicken.  Approximately.  Anyway the show is not as aggressive as it first sounds, it is actually a gentle romp through someone’s life charting their ancestors and finding out what happened to them all (mostly they die).     

I would like to be famous so that the ‘Who do you think you Are?’ production team would contact me.  It would be nice to travel around discovering little bits of information about my relatives.  I am quite an emotional bird so I would be excellent on the television as I would be bound to cry.  So if this blog ever does go global (I’ve already got fans in the States so there is a distinct possibility that this will happen soon) and you are from the production team of ‘Who do you think you Are?’ then I would be happy to join your show. 

TripleA used to bang on about her roots (her ancestors were all Penguin Hens too, the ones that walk and talk like our black and white friends – that’s not racist btw) and some of her relatives came from places as far flung as Norwich!  I would be keen to hear more about my genealogy and discover if I have any kind of exotic blood in me.  I believe my Father fathered many chickens, and certainly he wasn’t around when I was growing up, but I would like to know more about his side of the family, and my 4,796 1^st cousins probably do too.  He himself was often busy (as you have heard) but an interesting sort but we were very much a female coop and sometimes I wonder how that has shaped me into the chicken I am today. 

Also I have heard tell that some chickens have all kinds of different blood in them and can look really weird.  Now I’m not judging but I have posted some pictures of some more freaky friends below so you can laugh at them.

p.s. if you are from the production team for ‘Big Brother’ I don’t think I would consider going on your show.  Even if it was the celebrity version.  Unless there is a massive amount of money involved.  Feel free to email me anyway because I suppose, if I get desperate, it could still be a good platform to launch me as an international brand. 

Looters Beware!

Obviously the talk in the coop has been one of concern at the current situation and sympathy for our sisters in London.  We’ve been hearing the reports – looters ransacking businesses, buildings on fire, windows smashed - so have been extra vigilant in the coop over the last couple of days, shoring up our defences and taking turns to look out for anyone who might be after our feed or water.  Recharge thought she saw something sneaking by in the dark last night and whispered, “Looter!”  Unfortunately I heard, “Hooter” and thought she was simply owl-watching again, so failed to respond.  If anyone was staking the place out they might have managed it.  We’re going to be extra watchful tonight.  Recharge has pointed out that this blog might be a good way of warning off potential chicken crims as they’ll know we are WATCHING them when they read this.  They should also know we are prepared to use force to defend ourselves.  See picture of me practicing below.  I am a yellow belt.  Right, I need to get some shut eye, we might be in for another long night... 

Fame - I'm going to live forever

A lot of hens ask me “Duracell why do you blog?  Is it all about the fame for you?”  To them I say this:  I’m not one of those birds who dresses up and does tricks, I’m not some circus animal or that penguin in the zoo who got his mug all over the front covers when they made him a wetsuit and he was like, “Ooh look at me, I’m wearing clothes, aren’t I clever...”  No I’m not like that at all.  I don’t want the attention, the fame.  I’m blogging for ME.  But if fame has to come into it then I say, bring it.  I’m ready for it.  In fact I am particularly ready for fame this week as, due to the very hot weather, I have been wearing shades.  I am below with a sheep I met who always wears shades.  He is called Barry White because he goes ‘Baaa’ and because he is white.  It’s a very clever name.  Laters dudes and dudettes...